A Matter of Time
by bourbon
Summary: Can Woody and Jordan mend their broken relationship across time and distance? WJ pairing. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I admit it. This story is a little bit...different. If you don't like AU, you probably won't like this. I guess I'm getting a bored writing the same old stories. It's a long haul until the fall and all new storylines to inspire. In the meantime, here's another little detour inspired by my interest in WWII and my love of men in uniform. (Good thing I married one!) :-) _

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"No! N-O! Absolutely not! No! No way!"

"Come on, Jordan, it'll be fun!"

Jordan hurried to her office as Lily chased her down the hall.

"Fun? You want me to do a _fashion show? _I didn't even play with Barbies when I was a kid." She flung her bag on the office sofa as Lily followed in behind her and slipped a flyer into Jordan's hand.

"It's not your average fashion show, Jordan. It's a fundraiser, and I'm in charge this year. I really need your help."

Jordan scanned the flyer. "The Red Cross, huh? I didn't know you were a Red Cross volunteer."

"Well, I am. Disaster relief. And the fashion show is a benefit to raise funds for a permanent memorial in Washington to honor all the Red Cross volunteers who've served in the wars. We're going to play Big Band music, model vintage World War II fashions and uniforms. I promise. It'll be fun. Please? Everyone else has already said yes. Garret, Bug, Nigel, Woody..."

Jordan looked up. "Woody?"

Lily gave her a knowing smile. "Yes, Jordan. Woody, too."

She hadn't talked to Woody in weeks. Things had thawed a bit between them after he had sent her away that night in the hospital. She didn't know if it was hurt pride or pure Irish stubbornness, but no one seemed to want to be the first to talk about what had been said. They had never addressed her tearful confession or his angry rejection of her. In the weeks that had followed, they had talked, visited, but it wasn't the same, and there was still an awkward distance between them.

"I don't know, Lily. Olive drab really isn't my color."

"Oh, come _on_, Jordan!"

"Okay, okay. Anything for the Red Cross."

Lily clapped her hands in excitement. "Thank you thank you thank you! It's going to be great! Imagine all those guys in WWII uniforms!" Lily swooned. "I have to admit it...for a pacifist, I sure am a sucker for a man in uniform. Gosh, I think if I'd been alive in WWII, I would have been the easiest girl in town." She laughed. "Oops, did I say that? Saturday night, St. Denis Church! The details are on the flyer. See you there!"

Lily bounced out of the office with her stack of flyers as Jordan slipped hers into her bag. It _was_ a good cause, and she really didn't have any other plans for Saturday night. And, she thought to herself with a sly smile, maybe she was a little curious to see what Woody might look like in a sailor suit.

XXXXXXX

"Wool in August? You've _got_ to be kidding!" Lily stood in front of the mirror backstage at the St. Denis parish hall. She was wearing a dark blue wool pantsuit with a Red Cross emblem on the jacket sleeve.

"Yeah, thank God for air conditioning. This stuff does _not_ breath." Jordan sat buttoning up her green wool nurse's uniform. "Hey, I like yours. Cute hat. Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm a Clubmobile girl." Lily did a spin in her uniform. "They were Red Cross volunteers who drove little vans and followed the troops, doling out donuts and cigarettes."

"Very nice," Jordan said distractedly and scanned the sea of olive and khaki backstage area. Bug and Nigel were there. Garret, too, looking very smart in a summer Naval dress uniform.

"Woody's not here yet, Jordan," Lily said flatly.

"I wasn't looking for _Woody_," Jordan insisted, rolling her eyes. "I was just looking around for a pair of bigger boots. I'm having a hard time fitting my size eight feet into a pair of size five shoes."

"Sure, Jordan," Lily teased.

Of course, she _was_ looking for Woody, and she had been hopeful about tonight. Perhaps on neutral ground they could put aside their differences. But the show was about to start, and he still wasn't there, she noted with disappointment.

"How's the crowd out there?" Jordan asked, changing the subject.

"We've got a packed house!" Lily beamed. "I'm so nervous!"

"It'll be fine."

Lily crossed her fingers. "Five minutes until showtime!"

Jordan rose and peered through the curtain. The parish hall was beginning to fill with people. No Woody.

"Places, Jordan!" Lily whispered with excitement. Jordan sighed. He wasn't going to make it. She wasn't sure what difference it would make. They were barely speaking, anyway. She finished lacing her boots and got in line between a paratrooper and a Marine.

Movement by the backdoor caught her eye. It was Woody, already dressed in green combat gear. Her heart danced a little. Lily rushed to him with her clipboard and directed him where to stand. Her eyes caught his then, and he looked back at her, motionless for a moment. She gave him a small wave of her fingers, and he crossed to her.

"Hi..."

"Woody, hi. You look great."

"I feel like a giant G.I. Joe doll," he said with a groan. "Wow, olive drab is..."

"Yeah, I know. Not my color." They both laughed. It was a nice, shared moment, but then it passed, and the pained look of discomfort came back into his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'd better get in line."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Good seeing you."

"You, too, Jordan." He was gone with a small nod. So, that was it. That was the state of their relationship now. She sighed sadly, and then suddenly the curtain was open and the lights went up.

Her turn came and she walked out onto the little stage of St. Denis. The light was almost blinding. She'd never been good at things like this. She'd thrown up once during a Christmas pageant when she was eight.

"Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh models a typical nurse's uniform. As you can see, Army nurses in the field needed to have the same rugged and functional uniforms as the combat soldiers..." the emcee said in an enthusiastic sing-song as Jordan took her turn.

The audience clapped politely and she headed back for the curtain. Almost done. So far so good. No major mishaps. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was then that she heard the cracking sound, and she turned to it. The last thing she saw was a stage light coming away from its pole and swinging into her path.

XXXXXXXX

There was darkness. Thick and black. She seemed to be floating somewhere in it. And then she could hear the urgent call of a familiar voice. "Jordan? Jordan, are you all right?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was immediately aware of the pounding in her head. She was on the floor, and Nigel was there, standing over her with a look of concern.

"Yeah, Nige, I'm fine."

"You gave me quite a scare." He took off his helmet and offered her a hand up. She let out a surprised little laugh. Funny. She didn't remember him having gotten a buzz cut for the occasion. "Nigel, what did you to do your hair!"

He cocked his head. "Hair? What are you on about? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. It's just a little cut." Her hand went up to her throbbing head, and she winced in pain. She pulled her hand away and saw then the blood on her fingertips. "Or not so little."

"Dr. Macy can have that stitched up for you in a jiff."

_Dr. Macy?_ Why would Garret stitch her up? She blinked hard and shook her fuzzy head. Something wasn't quite right.

The smell...the sickening sweet smell of ether filled her nose and mouth. She hadn't smelled it since they used it to anesthetize some fruit flies in her 12th grade biology class. "Is that _ether? _Where did _that_ come from?"

Nigel ignored her and pulled her to her feet. "Dr. Macy! We're going to need you in here!"

She was aware of Garret's presence then. "You all right, Cavanaugh?"

"I'm _fine_, Garret, really. It's nothing..." Jordan frowned. He was wearing white scrubs. Hadn't he been wearing Navy whites?

Garret and Nigel exchanged looks. "She's calling you by your Christian name, Dr. Macy," Nigel muttered. "That must have been quite a blow."

"Dammit, how many times have I told you all to wear your helmets during air raids. That was an order, lieutenant!"

Jordan wrinkled her nose. "_Lieutenant? _What are you talking about, Garret? And dear _God_ what is that smell?" It was the ether, but there was something else, too. The smell of damp canvas and, she realized with dawning horror, the stench of burnt and decaying flesh.

Her eyes widened and darted around the room. The nausea that came with fear began to rise in her throat. She was still at St. Denis, but something was different. Part of the back wall had crumbled away and opened onto the grey sky. Garret and Nigel were there with her, but everyone else seemed to have vanished except for a young man sleeping in a cot in the corner. He appeared to be missing both of his legs.

She covered her mouth to stifle a scream. "What happened? Where is everyone?" she said with mounting panic. "Garret? Nigel? _What did you do_?"

"Calm down, Lt. Cavanaugh. No one did _anything._" Garret put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

She broke away and grabbed at Nigel's shirt. "What's going on? What did you do, Nigel!"

He looked back and shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

_Home_. She had to get home. She would get in the car, drive home to her safe, warm bed, and in the morning, everything would be all right. She pushed at the door, but it opened not onto the church parking lot but onto an unfamiliar street. The building across the way lay in ruins and an overturned jeep smoldered in the street with dying flames.

"Oh, God! This is a nightmare, isn't it? This can't really be happening!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, but she knew in horror from the sickening odor, the ache of her head, and the cold sting of snowflakes that fell against her bare skin that it was all too real. She turned back to Garret and Nigel as they looked on with stunned eyes. "Please someone help me! You've got to help me! I don't belong here!"

Garret was crossing to her then, and she opened her arms for him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Snap out of it, lieutenant!" And then he slapped her once, hard across the face. Her mouth formed a round "O" as her hand flew up to her stinging cheek. "These men need our help," he said sharply. "Pull yourself together."

There was the sound of an approaching truck, doors slamming, the anxious shuffle of feet on the gathering snow, and another frantic voice. "We've got wounded men here! Give us a hand, corpsman!"

Nigel ran past her into the street, and Garret placed a hand on her arm with a stern look. "We need you, lieutenant. Are you going to be able to handle this?"

Two figures passed by her carrying a bloodied man on a litter. She nodded numbly at Garret. Her instincts took over as Garret turned and shouted orders for bandages and instruments. She followed him in a semi-daze, repeating to herself..._This can't be happening, this can't be happening._

The pages of a calendar hanging over a desk ruffled in the wintry gust that followed the men in and caught Jordan's eye. Her throat closed with fear as she took long breaths to try and steady herself.

_December 1944._

_This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening..._


	2. Chapter 2

She sat on the steps of the church looking out onto the street. She was numb with fear and cold, not caring that the melting snow seeped through her olive trousers.

Up and down the street that ran in front of the church were bombed out stone buildings. There was a road sign that had been knocked over on its side giving the distance to Bastogne and Brussels. The village appeared to be abandoned except for St. Denis' elderly priest.

She remembered growing up with Max and spending countless Saturday afternoons watching old war movies and WWII documentaries with him. It was December 1944 in Belgium. She knew all too well what was happening. The Battle of the Bulge was being waged around her, and thousands of men were dying in the forest just beyond the village.

She had summoned up all her strength and her dormant surgical skills as Garret operated on the wounded soldier in the makeshift OR. The elderly parish priest shuffled in wearing his long black cassock, speaking in Latin. "_Per istam sanctam unctionem, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid deliquisti..._"

_"_Somebody get him out of here!" Garret growled.

"But he's performing Last Rites," said Nigel.

"The Last Rites are for the dying. We're not going to lose this one. _Allez! Allez!_ Go on, get him out!"

The old man mumbled in French as Bug apologetically ushered him out past the bedsheets that had been strung up for curtains.

She and Garret had managed to sew up the damage caused by the shrapnel. The solider had survived the operation, but it would be a miracle if he lived through the night.

Afterwards, she had staggered out into the snow and turned her face to the grey sky. "Am I dead?" she whispered aloud, but no answer came.

Surely, this would all be over soon. She would wake up in Boston with memories of a particularly vivid dream.

No. The blood on her surgical gown was real. The stench, the biting cold, the distant sound of artillery. It was all real. This was no dream.

If it wasn't a dream, she shuddered to think what it _was_ and just how long she would be trapped here. She collapsed then on the cold stone steps of the church, too tired and cold to cry.

Garret came out and sat beside her, wordlessly handing her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks..." she muttered numbly.

"Don't thank me until you've tasted it."

She wrapped her icy fingers around the mug and took a sip. "Well, it's hot. I'll give you that."

"It's the last of the coffee, anyway. Unless we can scrounge up some more." He lit a cigarette. "You're going to freeze out here."

"I don't mind the cold."

"Me, neither. If I can feel, then I'm still alive, right?" He smiled grimly. They sat silently for a moment. The snow had finally tapered off, leaving a peaceful white blanket on the grotesque ruins of the village. "That was good work in there, Cavanaugh. That blow obviously didn't affect your medical skills. How's the head?"

She sipped at the wretched coffee and chose her words very carefully. "I'm fine, but I'm having...a little trouble _remembering_ things. I know who I am, of course, I know you and Nigel, but I'm not really sure where we are or how we got here."

"You sure you're all right? I can have you evaced out of here on the next transport out.."

"No! No!" If she was going to be stuck in this..._nightmare_, she wanted to at least be surrounded by familiar faces. "I'm fine, really. I'm sure it's just temporary. Maybe if you fill in some of the blanks, it'll jog my memory?"

He sighed and took a long drag of his cigarette. "Three days ago we were evacuating with the 96th and some British medical personnel when our convoy came under enemy fire. Several of us were cut off from our unit...you, me, Corpsman Townsend, Corpsman Vijay."

"_Bug is here?" _she blurted.

Garret frowned. "Yes...and a Red Cross Clubmobile girl."

"Lily..."

"That's right. The solider in there, the one who lost his legs, he was our driver. He's been hovering between life and death for the last three days. We ended up here. We had an air drop of supplies before we got separated, but the fog and snow have been too bad to get anyone in or out since then. The fighting has been pretty fierce. Who knows how long we'll be here?" he said ominously. "Does any of this ring a bell?"

"It's...starting to come back to me."

"Good. I need you in there, lieutenant. You're the best nurse I've ever worked with."

"Thanks, Gar-." She stopped herself. Apparently, there was still a polite formality between doctors and nurses in 1944. "Thanks, Dr. Macy."

"Now come inside before I have to treat my best nurse for frostbite."

He ground out his cigarette as he stood and helped her to her feet. She was suddenly aware of the unpleasant dampness on the seat of her pants as they walked back into the church.

Nigel and Bug were rolling bandages. Lily was there, too, blotting the dampened forehead of the injured driver as he moaned in pain. She looked up and flashed Jordan a warm smile, but her cheeks were hollow and her eyes dark.

"Jordan..." Her voice was weak. "I heard about what happened. Why don't you lie down? I can cover you for awhile." Lily was the same in 1944 as in 2005 -- always thinking of someone else's needs.

Jordan took the bowl from Lily's hands and was about to speak to suggest that Lily get some rest instead when the door swung open and let in a gust of frigid air. "I don't believe it!" a familiar voice whooped.

Jordan turned to the door, and her jaw dropped. It was Woody standing in the doorway in what appeared to be the same combat uniform he had been wearing at the fashion show. He looked at her, and a grin spread across his face.

"I don't believe it!" He repeated and stumbled into the room. "It's true!" He grabbed her by her shoulders and spun her as the bowl slipped from her hands and fell with a clatter to the floor. "You're here! You're really here!"


	3. Chapter 3

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" Woody caught her up in a hug and lifted her off the ground.

Jordan laughed and threw her arms around his neck as he spun her around. Her vision grew blurry with tears. Woody was here. He had been trapped, too, somehow, and they were in this together.

"Mind telling me what this is about, soldier?" Garret stepped forward with his hands on his hips.

Woody set her down and stuck out his hand. "Oh, sorry, doc. Capt. Woody Hoyt from the 82nd, Charlie Company."

Jordan frowned. Why didn't Woody know Garret?

"Well, that answers _that_ question. Why all the excitement?"

"I've been stuck up at HQ since the 15th. It took me four days to get back down here, the weather was so bad." Woody was wide-eyed. "I've got a lot of men out in the field about to lose their toes to frostbite or trench foot. We've got one lousy medic, and he's so shell-shocked he can barely move. Someone told me there were some medical personnel holed up in the church here. Gosh, you're a sight for sore eyes. Or I guess that would be sore feet." He chuckled at his own joke, and Garret rolled his eyes.

Woody took off his helmet and ruffled his hair. "Sorry, ma'am, if I was a little forward. I just couldn't contain myself." He looked at Jordan and bowed his head apologetically.

"That's okay." Jordan smiled wistfully. He was here, but he didn't know her. He didn't know any of them.

"Captain, huh? You barely look old enough to be out of knee pants," Garret snorted.

Woody looked hurt. "I'm 31, sir. I was born in January 1913, the same day as Pres. Wilson's inauguration. That's why my parents named me Woodrow Wilson Hoyt."

"Fascinating." Garret deadpanned. "I'm Garret Macy from the 96th Army Field Hospital. This is my nurse, Lt. Cavanaugh. We've been pinned down here for days. Can you radio HQ and tell them we're here?"

"Will do, doc."

Garret headed off. "Send your men up here when you can, captain. We'll take a look at them. In the meantime have them change their socks at least three times a day."

"Thank you, sir!" Woody called after him with his familiar earnestness. He turned back to Jordan. "Well, I guess I'd better get back to my men. They sure will be glad to see you, ma'am."

"Please. Stop calling me ma'am. It's Jordan."

"Jordan Cavanaugh." He turned it over thoughtfully. "_Jordan_. That's different, but it sure is pretty." She walked him back out the door and down the steps to his jeep. "Wait 'til the men hear. You have no idea what it's like to get proper medical care for the first time in weeks."

She shrugged. The "hospital" at St. Denis was woefully inadequate by 1944 standards let alone the 21st century standards she was accustomed to. "It's the best we can do under the circumstances. We're running low on morphine, suturing thread. You name it."

He slipped into the driver's seat and looked back up at her with narrowed eyes, studying her face with intensity. "I feel like...I know you."

"Like we've met before?"

He screwed up his face and shook his head. "No, not exactly. I don't know. Crazy, huh?"

"No. Not crazy at all." He smiled and started up the jeep. She thought of him driving out into those woods beyond the village, facing cold, hunger and worse. "How is it out there?" she asked quietly.

His smile evaporated, and he didn't speak for a moment. "It's bad. It's the worse I've seen since...since Omaha Beach." He looked ahead of him onto the road that led into the forest.

"Be careful," she whispered.

There it was...he flashed her that smile again and he was _Woody_. "Aw, don't worry about me. You should be more worried about being overrun with lovesick G.I.s once they find out there's a pretty nurse in the village." He winked at her as he drove off. "I'll be back!"

She stood, arms folded across her against the chill, even after the jeep turned and disappeared at the end of the street. Finally, she went back inside to where Lily was still tending to their patients.

"Jordan Cavanaugh, you're blushing!"

"I'm not blushing, it's frostbite."

"Mmm-hmm." Lily smiled and raised her eyebrows.

"You know, I think I _will_ lie down if you don't mind." She walked to the front of the church where several cots were set up by the altar. She stood staring at them. It was absurd, beyond bizarre. One of these cots was hers, and she had no idea which one. She had to laugh to keep from crying.

Two of the cots were set off behind a bed sheet curtain, and she assumed those were hers and Lily's cots. She was too tired to try and guess which was which, and she collapsed on the closest one.

She drew her knees up to her chest and tucked herself into a ball. Every fiber of her body ached with cold and exhaustion. She had been running on adrenaline since she had awoken here, but now the inevitable crash was following.

She lay there not knowing where she was or how long she would be here. To make things worse, men were facing almost certain death out there beyond the little Belgian village. And Woody was one of them. He didn't know her, but he was still Woody. With every nervous stammer and every smile, she knew it. Back at home, he was lost to her, but at least he was _alive._ Here, she could lose him forever just as she had found him again. For all she knew this was her eternity, and she wasn't sure she wanted to face an eternity without him.

She lay there and cried quietly, her eyes turned up to the sky, as it glowed with the sunset and faded into the blackness of night.


	4. Chapter 4

She woke sometime in the night and found Lily's cot empty.

She slipped out of bed and discovered Lily asleep on a chair between the two wounded patients with a book folded across her chest.

Their driver was dead, his empty eyes looking lifelessly out at her.

It took Nigel and Bug hours to dig a shallow grave in the hard earth of the church's little graveyard. They buried him before sunset The old priest said a few words in French as they all stood huddled around the grave.

Jordan found Lily there an hour later, crying quietly as she knelt on the frozen ground.

"I thought this would be fun. I was just supposed to smile and hand out cigarettes and chewing gum. No one was supposed to die." She broke down in fresh sobs.

Jordan knelt down beside her and pulled her into her arms as they both cried in silence while the sun sank toward the horizon.

Woody didn't come back. Jordan wandered outside several times that day, looking up and down the road for signs of him. Finally, she knew he would not be coming.

She had found a rosary tucked inside her duffel bag, and she fingered it that night in silent prayer as she lay awake in her cot. The low rumble of the incessant bombardment sounded closer than ever.

There was little to do the next day but wait. The solider who had been brought in the day before had managed to survive through the first night and the next. He was still drifting in and out of consciousness, but there wasn't much that could be done for him. She spent the day scrounging in the rubble for any items that could be useful: scissors, sewing needles. And waiting for Woody.

She had almost given up hope of seeing him again and had begun to fear the worse. She had come back in the church for the dinner they had managed to throw together from tin cans and C-rations when she heard the sound of a car horn.

She bolted down the front steps of the church. A jeep was careening around the corner. Seven G.I.s sat crammed into it, legs and arms spilling overboard as they laughed and waved. Woody was in the driver's seat, honking as they screeched to a halt in front of the church.

"I told you I'd be back," he said with a grin.

The soldiers spilled noisily out of the jeep and up the stairs. The little church was filled with the clamor of soldiers who had not seen civilization for weeks. It was infectious, and the black mood that had settled over the rest of them lifted immediately.

Lily laughed for the first time since they had buried their driver. She happily doled out cigarettes and candy and sympathetic smiles.

Garret and Jordan tended to the various wounds and ailments, none of them too dire. The frostbite and trench foot that some of them suffered wasn't serious. It was nothing that a dry pair of socks and some time by the fire wouldn't solve. Garret also prescribed an old WWI remedy -- a nip of whiskey to get the blood re-circulating. The old priest looked on disapprovingly.

Jordan stitched up the minor wound of a young red-headed soldier, and he looked up at her admiringly. "You're even prettier than Capt. Hoyt said you were, ma'am," he said bashfully.

"Is that so?" She blushed in spite of herself. "Tell me about Capt. Hoyt."

The young man grinned. "Well, he takes a little bit of a ribbing from the men sometimes. He's kind of an Eddie Attaboy-Boy Scout type."

"You don't say."

"But he's aces. We all think so. He knows how to keep morale up, and he's a great company commander. We'd all follow him anywhere." The soldier slid off the table. "Thank you, ma'am! It was almost worth getting nicked with a bullet to get it stitched up by you!"

Woody crossed to her then. "Thanks. For everything," he said sincerely. He nodded to where his men sat drying their feet by the fire. "This is like a vacation for us."

"You're welcome." She said simply. "How long have you had that cough?"

He waved her off. "It's nothing."

She picked up her stethoscope. "Why don't you let me listen to your chest?"

"It's getting better. I'm fine."

"You shouldn't let things like that go. Especially out in the field." She pulled playfully at the tail of his shirt. "Come on, let me listen."

"_No, _I'm fine." He brushed her hand away. "Please."

"Really, you should..." She reached out for his shirttail again.

"I said I'm fine." She still had the tail of his shirt as he took a sudden step back. The shirttail slipped out of his pants and several buttons popped off. She drew in her breath. A jagged line ran from his navel and disappeared below his waistband.

"I'm sorry, Woody..."

"Omaha Beach," he said quietly as he stuffed his shirt back into his pants. "I barely made it 50 feet up the beach before I was hit. They didn't think I'd make it. But not only did I survive, I healed up so quickly they sent me right back here. Lucky me, huh?" His face twisted into a bitter smile, and he crossed to look out onto the street through a chink in a shattered stained glass window.

She went to him and reached her hand out toward his back but then stopped. It was something she would not have hesitated to do for the Woody she knew at home, but perhaps it was too intimate a gesture for this man who barely knew her.

Finally, she dropped her hand on the center of his back. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He nodded once. "Come on. Come with me."

She grabbed his hand before he could protest, and they headed back into the cold.

XXXXXXX

The midday sun was high and bright. It was the first break in weather they had had, but storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance. She had led him on an easy stroll down the street as they scrounged through the rubble for more useful items. They spoke easily and lapsed into comfortable silences. Like two people who know each other very well, she thought to herself.

"So, where you from, Jordan Cavanaugh?"

"Boston."

"Do you have a sweetheart back home in Boston?"

"Now, that's a forward question, Capt. Hoyt."

He stammered and held his hands in front of him apologetically. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Kidding. I'm kidding." She smiled to herself. If only he knew the truth of the matter. "Let's just say...no. I don't have a sweetheart back home in Boston."

She caught his surreptitious smile from the corner of her eye. "Gosh, that's too bad."

"How about you? Where are you from? I'm guessing Iowa. No..._Wisconsin_."

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. What do you do back in Wisconsin?"

"I'm a sheriff's deputy. I don't know...it's going to be hard to go back to a small town after all this." He swept his arm in front of him. _This_. The war, the destruction.

"Have you thought about what you might do instead?"

"Well. I've never been to Boston." He smiled at her, and then his foot hit against something metal. He leaned down to pick it up. "How about this? Can you use it at the hospital? It looks like a sewing kit"

She ran over and looked in the box. "Needles, thread, scissors! This is perfect. You are wonderful!" She impulsively leaned over and kissed him on the check.

He drew back suddenly, then blushed and looked away. When his eyes came back up to hers, all traces of boyish embarrassment were gone. He reached up to her and brushed her cheek with his fingers, searching her face for signs of protest. There were none.

She closed her eyes as he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, softly, hesitantly. Her body yielded against his as he drew her in with one arm, the embrace growing in intensity.

After two days of exhaustion and cold and fear, this felt right and good. She wanted to lose herself in it. She ached for the gentle touch of another human being. She ached for _him_.

Then the kiss broke suddenly, and he looked at the ground in shame. "I'm sorry. That was way off the beam. I shouldn't have..."

"It's all right."

"No, that was inappropriate, and I apologize."

"Woody..." She followed him has he turned and hurried back to the church. "Wait."

He turned toward her, and the pained look on his face stopped her in her tracks. "We can't, Jordan," he said quietly.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop from crying. "No. I guess not."

The men were streaming out of the church and climbing reluctantly into the jeep.

"Have any plans for Christmas, soldier?" she said brightly.

"What...besides Midnight mass and a five course dinner with all the trimmings? No, I'm free." The smile came back to his face.

"You've always got an invitation here. All the Hershey bars and Life Savers you can eat."

He grinned. "Not even a war could keep me away."

He jumped in the jeep, and they screeched down the street the same way they had come in. She watched them go and then turned to take the steps back into the church two at a time.


	5. Chapter 5

Garret stood inside the church with his arms folded across his chest.

She breezed by him, ignoring his disapproving look. "Well, I guess I'll go sort through this sewing kit and see what we can use."

"Be careful, lieutenant."

She turned back to him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Macy," she said without much conviction.

"I know emotions are running high right now," he said with a firm but gentle voice. "It's easy to get carried away. _Don't_."

"Who, me?" She turned back around and hurried off with the sewing kit.

XXXXXXX

On the morning of the 24th, Nigel and Bug cut down a small pine tree from the village square and dragged it back to the hospital, needles dropping off all the way. They managed to lash the sad little thing to a table top, and Jordan and Lily decorated it with garlands of Life Savers and twine.

Towards nightfall, they pooled their C-rations and prepared a feast of tinned turkey and dumplings, applesauce, and lima beans. As the table was ready, they heard the sound of the jeep returning to the village, and Woody and several of the men poured into the church with exuberant laughter.

The room glowed with candlelight. They ate and toasted each other with a punch someone had made from the last of the whiskey and a beverage powder from one of the C-rations. It was nauseating, but they drank it, and all were soon warm with drink and the fire.

Nigel entertained them with bawdy English music hall songs, and later, Bug brought out an old victrola and some records he had salvaged from one of the bombed out buildings. They danced to Glenn Miller, and even the old priest, Father Rene, joined them, crooning along in his tipsy voice.

Each of the men had to take a turn jitterbugging with Lily and Jordan, but then "Moonlight Serenade" came over the victrola. The music slowed, and Jordan found herself in Woody's arms. They didn't speak, but she leaned her head against his chest as he hummed softly.

Finally, as midnight approached, the mood became more somber. They gathered around and one of the men led them in "Silent Night" and "O Come All Ye Faithful." Someone passed Woody an English Bible, and he read aloud the nativity story from Luke.

Father Rene appeared in full vestments as the clock struck midnight. Those who wanted communion moved up to the altar, heads bowed. She hadn't taken communion in more than a decade, but she found herself following Woody and kneeling at the rail with him.

As she waited there, eyes closed, she felt bathed in a strange sense of peace. Here she was, in some unknown place, perhaps never to know her old life again, but it was the most meaningful Christmas she had spent in years.

Woody took her hand as they rose from the rail. "Come with me. I have something for you," he whispered.

He led her to the door at the side of church that opened onto the crumbling cloister. They hurried silently down the walkway and into the abandoned convent next to the church.

He pulled her inside one of the little cells. They stood giggling like schoolchildren while he blew on her hands for warmth.

"I got you something." He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small box. "Merry Christmas, Jordan."

She took it in her hands and gently lifted the lid. There was a delicate little glass bottle inside, and the scent of roses wafted up to her. "Woody! This is perfume! Where did you get it?"

"Don't ask."

"It must have cost you a fortune."

"It doesn't matter."

She pulled out the glass stopper and ran it across her wrist. "It's beautiful. I love roses. Here, smell."

She lifted her wrist, and he caught it in his hand. Their eyes met; he stroked the palm of her hand with his thumb. He placed a gentle kiss there and pulled her in to him.

His mouth fell on hers. She didn't resist but ran her hand through his dark hair and pulled him closer. They stumbled backward onto the cot there in the empty room. Their eyes met again; he looked at her questioningly. She would not deny him. She wanted this. Time was precious, she had learned. She reached up to his face and nodded.

There was hurried fumbling with buttons and belts. His hand clasped hers as he slipped inside her. They moved together in the passion of need and fear, rising to a heated crescendo.

Afterwards, she kissed away his tears. "It's okay," she whispered as she smiled through her own tears. "It's okay."

They lay silently wrapped around each other in the tiny cot. Finally, they rose and straightened their clothing. He led her by the hand back through the cloister, pausing to kiss her once more before they re-entered the church.

The others were drowsily cleaning up from the festivities as the men packed their things back up. They all traded thanks and good wishes.

She walked them to the door as they headed out. She caught his hand and pulled him in. "When are you coming back?"

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I'll always come back."

And then he was gone, out into the dark Christmas morning.

When she turned around, Garret was glaring at her with paternal reproof. She shrugged and brushed away a tear. When had she ever listened to Garret?

Her cot was waiting, and she curled up under her blanket feeling warm and content. As she drifted off, she raised her wrist to her nose and drew in the sweet scent of roses.


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't return the next day or the next. The fighting had been particularly fierce these last few days after Christmas. They all turned an anxious eye toward the forest, but no one dared give voice to their fears.

She tried to busy herself as much as possible. Their patient had regained full consciousness and needed more attention. They all prepared the makeshift hospital for any wounded men that might find their way there. She made several trips out into the rubble to see what she could salvage. Mostly, her time was spent in worry: worrying whether she would ever escape this nightmare, worrying whether she would have to face it without Woody.

And then on the third day, they could hear the sound of the jeep, and she said a silent prayer. She ran to him, Garret be damned, as he bounded inside the building and scooped her into his arms.

"I come bearing gifts," he said as he handed Garret a bundle. Jordan ignored Garret's slight scowl.

"This is morphine!" Garret said unwrapping the bundle. "Where did you...?"

"We ran into a unit that needed ammo, so we were able to make a trade. I knew you could use it."

Garret offered his hand in thanks, genuinely surprised and grateful. "Thank you, captain." He headed off, but not before shooting Jordan a look. _This doesn't change anything._

"I don't think your dad likes me, Jordan," he teased.

"Don't pay any attention to him." She took him by the hand, and led him to the table for a hot drink. By heating a mug of powdered milk and adding cocoa powder from the C-rations, they had managed to come up with a reasonable facsimile of hot chocolate. It had been so long since any of them had tasted the real thing, they had forgotten what it tasted like anyway.

"I've got good news," he said sipping at the drink. "I managed to get a radio patch in to your unit. They're sending a truck for you as soon as we get another break in the weather."

She sat up and looked at him with stunned eyes. "Oh..."

He frowned and set the mug down. "I thought you'd be happy. That's good news, isn't it?"

"I just thought..." She looked away and wiped at her tears. She had grown used to this. Of course, she knew that it couldn't last. If this world, whatever it was, was going to follow real 1944 history, then the Allies would hold off the German attack and march on to Berlin. The war would be over in a matter of months. They couldn't stay here.

He exhaled and reached out for her hand. "Jordan, my unit is going to be moving out eventually, anyway. You know that. And this place isn't safe for you."

"You just found me!" she said through tears with an angry edge to her voice.

"I will _always_ find you." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. With his other hand, he touched her chin and brought her face around to his. He was smiling, and she tried to smile back as she held his gaze for a moment.

And then there was an ear-shattering explosion, and the church seemed to shudder to its foundation. The air was filled with the screams of incoming artillery fire.

She was aware of voices, movement. Woody grabbed her and pushed her under the table. "Stay down, Jordan!"

"What the hell is going on?" Garret shouted over the sound of the bombardment.

"We've got the Germans on the run. They're getting desperate." Woody shouted back. "Is there a basement? Somewhere we can get these people?"

"There's an undercroft! Take the stairs behind the altar!"

"Let's go! Move! Move! Move!" Woody waved his arms as Nigel and Bug frantically moved their patient onto a litter and hurried toward the undercroft. Father Rene was shuffling as quickly as he could amid the crumbling walls. Jordan scrambled out from under the table.

"Cavanaugh, get downstairs! That's an order!"

Jordan looked around the room in a panic. "Lily! Where's Lily!"

"Go, Jordan!" Woody shouted. "We'll find her!"

"_Lily!"_ Garret stumbled around the room yelling over the explosions. They heard a faint wail then. She was balled up in the corner, too frightened to move. He ran to her, and pulled her to her feet as she covered her face with her hands.

Woody took her arm and handed her off to Jordan. "Get downstairs! Both of you!"

"What about you two!"

"We're right behind you! Now, _go!" _He turned and ran from the chancel back into the nave where he and Garret grabbed up supplies. She sent Lily scrambling down the stairs and turned back to Garret and Woody.

She opened her mouth to say something. They looked up at her, Woody raised his hand to call to her, and then suddenly, they weren't there. There was the horrible shriek of incoming artillery, an earth-shaking explosion, and then nothing but smoke.


	7. Chapter 7

_"NO!"_ she screamed and staggered off the altar and ran through the cloud of ash and dust. They had been hit by a shell; it had opened a giant hole in the roof of the old church and exploded in the nave.

She saw a hand then, coming up through the ash cloud, and she dove onto the floor, frantically brushing away the pile of rubble. It was Woody, reaching to her as he coughed out a chestful of dust.

"Woody! Are you hurt? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Where's the doc?" He scrambled to his feet as the cloud began to lift. The bombardment was over as quickly as it had begun, and there was now an eerie quiet.

"Garret? Can you hear me?" Damn the formality. This was _Garret._ She saw him then, a foot sticking out from under a section of crumbled wall. She and Woody knelt beside him and pulled the stones off in a frenzy. "Garret! Hang in there! We'll get you out!" He was ominously still, and she choked on her own words. Her heart sank when she saw his bloodied torso. He had caught shell fragments in his chest, and the life was rapidly oozing out of him.

They pulled the last of the rocks off, and she leaned in to check his pulse. She turned to Nigel and Bug, who had climbed out of the undercroft.

"He's alive! Set up the instrument tray in the OR!" Nigel and Bug traded looks of incomprehension. "Move!"

"But you can't..." Bug fumbled.

"I'm not going to let him die! If we can stop the bleeding, he has a chance! Move! _Now!"_

The two blinked themselves back into action. There was a flurry of movement. The "OR" was ridiculously unsterile, but there was no time. Woody and Nigel lifted Garret's body and stretched him out onto the table.

She stood there, summoning her courage, and began to pull the fragments from his chest. "Hang in there, Garret! Hang in there!" she repeated as her voice rose to a frantic pitch. "You're going to be fine, you hear me? You're going to be fine!"

Her voice was the only sound in the stillness. No one else spoke. Finally, there was Nigel's voice, small and strained. "Jordan..."

_"What?"_

"He's gone."

"No! He's going to be fine." She reached one bloodied hand out to Bug. "Clamp!" Bug took a step back from the table, his eyes cast down in resignation. "Did you hear me? I said clamp!"

"Jordan..." Woody said quietly and reached out for her arm.

"No!" She yanked away from him.

"Jordan, he's gone. He's gone." He took her elbows in his hands, and she looked up at him.

"No...no..." She broke down then, her knees gave way, and he caught her and pulled her into his arms. "He can't be..."

"Ssssh. I'm sorry. You did your best," he whispered, stroking her hair as she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Lily and Father Rene crawled out of the undercroft then. Bug ran to her as she let out a mournful wail. The old priest collapsed in tears at the ruin of his beloved church and keened in French.

They all stood, unable to move for a long while, as they looked down at Garret's body, the sound of sobs filling the still air.

XXXXXXX

They solemnly covered Garret with a sheet and and moved him down into the crypt. No one spoke.

Jordan had gone into a kind of shock. Woody had draped a blanket around her shoulders, and she sat shivering on the floor. The others were now going about the business of trying to clean up after the devastation.

Woody finally came and sat beside her on the ground. "They'll be here in a couple of days for you," he began quietly. "You can take him with you, then." She didn't respond. He covered her hand with his. "You did everything you could, Jordan. He never had a chance."

She shook her head. There was no way she could make him understand what she had been through already, no way to make him understand what Garret had meant to her.

He was silent for a long moment. She turned to him, and his eyes were dark. "I've got to go, Jordan."

"_Go_? Go _where_?" She could feel the panic begin to rise again.

"HQ. I'll just be gone for a couple of days."

"Don't. Don't go."

"I have to. I'll be back."

"You won't. I know it."

"I _will._ I told you that. I'll always come back." She lowered her head onto her knees. "I hate to leave you like this, Jordan, I really do. I'd give anything to hold you in my arms all night. I would." He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head.

"If you're going to go, then _go_."

He looked back at her with hurt eyes, but then kissed her again softly. "I will see you again, Jordan. I promise you."

He was gone then, climbing over downed beams, and out the door.

She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, sitting there in a daze, when she suddenly realized what she had done. She scrambled to her feet and made it through the door and out onto the street.

The jeep was about to disappear around the corner. She called to him, screaming his name. He turned and looked over his shoulder as she jumped up and down waving her arms over her head.

He smiled, she could see that even from a distance. He lifted his hand, turned the corner, and then he was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Well, this is it...the final chapter. I had such fun writing this story, and I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much to those who read and reviewed. Your insightful comments are really sustaining. I was nervous about posting this story, so thank you for all your feedback!_

_Here goes..._

_XXXXXXXXXX_

They floated rudderless for the next few days. Everyone seemed to move in a daze, barely speaking. Jordan forced herself to take the reins and provide some kind of leadership when all she felt was scared and alone. Garret was gone, and Woody had yet to return.

She had all but given up hope of seeing him again; hope had not served her very well here. But there was still a glimmer of it. She would dab the rose perfume on her wrists and lie awake in her cot at night picturing him there with her. He had said he would come back..._I will always find you._ It was the only thing she had to cling to.

She stood looking down at the calendar that she had seen fluttering in the wind on her first day there. She had marked off almost two weeks worth of days on it. It was December 31st. It seemed strange that it was about to turn over into a new month, a new year, but it was hard to keep track of time here when one day seemed to bleed into the next.

The day was a marked contrast to the warm festivities of Christmas Eve. No one seemed particularly determined to celebrate. They moved through the day in their usual empty-eyed daze, and late in the afternoon, she crossed off yet another day on the calendar and turned the page over into 1945.

She heard something then...the distinctive sound of a jeep in the distance. Everyone looked up hopefully from their funk. _Woody_. He was back. Then there was something else, not just a jeep, but the heavy rumbling of a truck. They were being rescued.

"Somebody call for a cab?" It was one of Woody's men who had come for Christmas Eve. He stood in the doorway with a wide grin on his face, and the others cheered and applauded with relief. "I just escorted this truck here. They are going to get you back to your unit. You'll be safe there, but you need to hurry and pack up what you can. There's another storm rolling in."

Jordan ran past the soldier and into the street. Woody was here, wasn't he? He said he would back. She looked up and down the street. Two Army drivers opened the back of the truck and waved her in.

He wasn't there.

She ran back into the church to where Nigel and Bug were hurriedly grabbing up their supplies and Lily was preparing their patient for travel.

"Where's Capt. Hoyt? Isn't he with you?" The young man's face fell, and her heart fell with it. She saw her worst fear realized in his eyes. Her voice was small and pleading. "Please tell me he's okay."

He took a deep breath. "He radioed to us out in the field before he left HQ. That was yesterday. He should have been back by now."

"Oh, God, no..." She reached out to the wall to steady herself.

"We don't know anything, ma'am. He could have been caught in the weather. He could be holed up in a barn somewhere riding out the storm."

She nodded. Yes, of course. He was fine. _Fine_. She turned as Bug and Nigel solemnly brought Garret's body up out of the crypt. The young soldier removed his helmet respectfully. "We heard about Col. Macy, ma'am. We're very sorry."

She felt herself tear up as they passed by with the stretcher. She would not lose Woody, too. "He'll be back. Woody will be back. I didn't say goodbye. I didn't tell him..." She shut her eyes. The last words she had said to him were in anger. _If you're going to go, then go._

One of the drivers stuck his head in the door. "Let's get a move on! We're about to get clobbered by this storm!"

She numbly gathered up her coat and staggered out the door. Lily took her arm and led her down the steps. Nigel and Bug had already climbed in the truck and were urging her on. Bug pulled Lily in the back of the truck, and Nigel leaned down to offer Jordan a hand.

Over her shoulder, she could see the storm cloud descending on them. Her fingers brushed against Nigel's.

"That's it, love. Let's go!"

She turned again. Woody was out there. She had to make things right. Things would not end this way. Not this time.

"No..." She let her hand slide from Nigel's as the truck began to pull away.

"Jordan! Wait!"

The snowflakes began to sting against her face as she turned into the blinding white storm. Woody was out there somewhere. She would find him.

"Jordan! Come back!" Nigel shouted to her over the buffeting winds. "Can you hear me? Jordan? Come back!"

She heard Nigel's voice receding in the distance as she was swallowed up into the whiteness.

XXXXX

"Jordan? Can you hear me? Jordan? Come back."

Her eyes fluttered open. There was a white light. A figure loomed over her, silhouetted against the garish and artificial brightness.

"Nigel..." Her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. Her eyes darted with panic around the room. There were others there, speaking with urgent, muffled voices. She tried to lift a hand to shield her eyes from the glare.

Nigel turned to speak to the other figure at the end of the bed. "She's awake!"

"What happened?" The storm...she'd been lost in the storm, and they had found her. She was in the hospital.

No. Something was different. She tried to blink her eyes into focus.

"You had us worried," someone said.

"_Garret..._is that you?"

"It's me. I'm here, Jordan." She choked on her tears. Garret came around to the other side of the bed and took her hand. "It's okay. You're going to be fine."

She was finally aware of the dull ache in her head. She was back. She was home. "How long have I been unconscious?" she croaked.

"About twenty-four hours."

_Twenty-four hours. _She had lived a lifetime in those hours.

Nigel continued. "We've all been here with you. Dr. M., me, Bug. Lily can't stop crying. She blames herself."

She shook her head and held back a sob. "I thought you were gone, Garret."

Garret and Nigel traded curious looks. "Jordan, I've been right here in your room."

She shut her eyes. There was no point in trying to explain it all to them. They wouldn't believe it, anyway.

Then, her eyes snapped back open. She tried to sit up. "Woody! Where's Woody?"

Garret put a hand on her shoulder. "Easy, Jordan. He's here. He's been here in the hospital the whole time. He's down in the waiting room."

She struggled again. "I need to see him," she said as she reached out to grab Garret's shirt. "I need to see Woody. I need to talk to him. _Please._"

"Okay, okay. Just lie back and save your strength, Jordan." Garret nodded at Nigel, and the two left the room.

"Hello..." She turned her head toward his voice. He was there then, standing awkwardly in the doorway. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

Seeing him opened the floodgates, and the tears flowed in sheets down her face. He stumbled to her bedside and took her hand in his. "Oh, hey! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. That's why I stayed outside this whole time. I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or not. I'll go..."

"No! No! You don't understand. I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never see you again."

"You're going to be okay, Jordan. We were scared for awhile, but the docs say it was just a bad blow on the head. No real damage. The head of yours is too hard for that." It was an attempt at humor, but she could see the real worry behind his eyes.

"No. Listen to me," she started with urgency. "Something happened while I was out. Maybe someday I'll try and explain it to you, but you have to believe me. _Something happened._"

He looked at her doubtfully. "Like one of those near-death things?"

She shook her head. "No. That's not it. I don't know how to explain it myself, but it was real. It happened. And now I want you to listen to me. I am not leaving you again. Not ever. I was an idiot to walk out of that hospital room, and you were an idiot to throw me out. If you can't see that, you're more hard-headed than I am. I am not going to waste another second running from you, Woody Hoyt. And don't you dare push me away. Time is too precious."

She could see that his reddened eyes were growing damp again. He bent his head down onto the side of her bed and lifted her hand to his lips. With her other hand, she reached over and stroked his hair.

"Now I've upset _you_."

"I thought I'd lost you, too, Jordan."

"Well, you found me."

He leaned down and kissed her bandaged forehead. "I will _always_ find you." He shivered a little. "Wow. I just got the strongest sense of deja vu."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. Strange." He cocked his head and lifted his chin up. "That's weird. I smell roses."

"Roses?" She smiled.

"Yeah. Definitely. Crazy, huh?"

"No. Not crazy at all."

THE END


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